Christine's Lament
by MickeytheMouse
Summary: We all believed the tale over, the battle both won and lost. As we now enter into the mind of Christine, the older and married Christine who still dreams of him often, we wonder if she truly chose her happily ever after ending. Did she really find love?


_A/N: As I went on thinking and getting into the mindset most of us "phantom-lovers" can get into: the state of despising Christine, I also began thinking "outside-the-box" you might call it. I thought 'well of course Christine has feelings too!' After all as this poem relays onto the Epilogue of the Leroux novel I played with the idea of whether Christine was truly happy. We always read about in fairytales, the 'happy-ending' and though I may still dream of the two unlikely people of Erik and Christine getting together in some alternate dimension, I realize that if reality were to happen the story perhaps would end the same. Still, that does not mean that there is never a happy ending. Please **review** if you feel so inclined to do so, you should know that I would greatly appreciate it._

Disclaimer: I acknowledge that this bit of poetry lends off of the Gaston Leroux novel, _The Phantom of the Opera_, thus I take no ownership of characters.

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**Christine's Lament**

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While I gaze in this mirror, what do I see?

There is dancing all about me, girls flying in and out.

At times this mirror proves truthful, that which I truly am.

I am flawed— it is a fact.

I am not perfect— one of many.

But as I stare at this mirror there is one thing I do not see.

Though I see the world around me,

Its sorts and plays and farce,

Its loves and hates and muses to itself.

Still, there is one thing I do not see.

I see a woman, fully grown, with her nose to the floor.

I see a boy, shy and scared, racing past me with his chin held high.

I see the beggars counting their riches,

I see the rich glaring into empty store windows.

I see Paris burning,

It's like an opera that is playing out.

Those that would have stayed beside me stray from where my heart pulls,

And as my heart separates from my head— I faint.

And though I feel arms around me,

Encircling me against the night air,

When I awake there is nothing but the mirror, and that which I cannot see.

It frustrates and implores me— it frightens and adores me.

That while in heaven my eyes cannot see around me.

All I can see are the mistakes I have made, the hearts I have broken.

The Parisian stage claps and yet I do not hear them, they are now an empty call.

The dance that keeps on running,

Reflects the face that keeps on moving.

I cannot escape the fear, the pain

I cannot see what lies before me any longer.

But these are not what I cannot see in the mirror, for these things I knew already.

As my name may mean perfection— I am far from it.

That fate that haunts me, that mask

It is that mask that is all I see.

I do not see myself.

When I look into the mirror, and feel the pain, regret and loss,

And hug my two children close beside me,

I remember those days of young when I was free, lost, and hopeless.

That phantom, which haunted my days, now haunts my sleep,

The promise I did not keep rings louder each time I stare at that ring.

My children are now calling me out of my daze, calling 'Mama Christine, Mama Christine?'

I kiss my youngest and then my eldest and tell them not to worry.

And then as my eldest hugs me tightly, I strangely shed a tear.

So that as I gaze into the mirror, and see only him I whisper to him, my eldest, and myself

'Thank you Erik, merci… merci.'

I am flawed— it is a fact.

I am not perfect— one of many.

But as I stare at this mirror there is one thing I do see.

Though I see the world I lost, and the man I betrayed in my reflection,

As I also see my boys, I can now see myself smiling.

This Christine Daae did know love after all, in the end.

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_Once again please review if you wish, as it always makes my day and I hoped you were at least entertained at a slightly different viewpoint of Christine and the way the story ended without rewriting any plot._

_MickeytheMouse_


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